


Unfortunate event in time

by blank_ghost



Series: unfortunate event in time [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Earthquakes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, welcome to LA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:31:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blank_ghost/pseuds/blank_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It will later be recorded that on that mid June day - when the heat was already record breaking - that the San Andreas fault at approximately eleven fifteen AM would shift. The resulting earthquake was a 7.8 on the Richter Scale. </p><p>LA and surrounding cities would accumulate millions of dollars of damage. Equally millions of lives will change, set upon a new path destiny shifted as easily as the earth. </p><p>Of all those millions of lives changed, surely none could be more important than the reset of a genius and a god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nearly one year ago, this fic and it’s sequel; 20,160 minutes was removed from the internet because- well to be honest, because I felt it was crap. The outcry to have this fic back has been overwhelming. I had never thought people cared that much.  
> There has literally been too many people requesting to have this fic back to list them all here, but you know who you are and this is your baby now. 
> 
> Big Thank you to Becky for coming back and going over this all once more for old time’s sake. <3 
> 
> Enjoy.

Southern CA had always been one of Tony's favorite places in the grand US of A. Hell, he'd resided in Malibu for years before recently taking up residence in his newly completed and then re-completed Stark Tower in New York; his second most favorite little slice of American pie.   
  
    LA didn’t fail him this trip either, there's an unearthly glow of fog built up under simmering heat that only a trip to the beach could beat. Not that he had time for that. He didn’t seem to have much time at all anymore. Not that he ever did, but Tony Stark always made time for time, Dammit.   
  
    The blazing heat makes the freeways seem like rivers of lava with endless ants traveling on them from this high up, the blue of the Pacific only a faint ribbon of relief to the heat in the horizon.   
  
    "Jarvis, remind me to schedule in a trip out to Malibu next week."  
  
    "I'm sorry Sir, your calendar is full. Ms. Pepper has scheduled you a-"  
  
    "Cut the crap Jarvis, I don’t care. I earned it." Tony cuts of the AI, looking to the HUD, the Avengers Jet coming in fast behind him. Turning with an easy adjust to propulsion he patches himself onto their radio channels.  
  
    "Have we any new readings, Mr. Green?"  
  
    "The Rosen Bridge closed over three hours ago, he could be anywhere now Tony. There’s no gamma radiation so it's obvious he doesn’t have the Tesseract again or that scepter." Banner’s voice is tired and warning, he was the least willing to come with this little trip and he had good reasons for it. LA was loud and noisy and full of very stressful situations and that's not when chasing a bat shit crazy Norse god.   
  
    Loki-pain-in-Tony’s-ass of Asgard had shown up as a blip on the proverbial radar when he'd entered their world. There was no word of Thor, who would have been the far better of the Odensons to arrive back in 'middle earth'. S.H.I.E.L.D went red alert instantly, for obvious reasons. Loki’s last visit was very fondly remembered by all.  
  
    "Switch over to police scanners, if he's done anything the good old LAPD will be the first there," he should know; he'd been pulled over more for drunk driving in LA than in any other state.   
  
    He could hear Clint making the change over the fuzzy feed of the line; he knew it was Clint because Natasha was bitching about him not doing it right. Tony reaches up and taps the side of his helmet with a frustrated frown. The interception was new and Tony couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the Rosen Bridge, or as called by the gods 'bifrost'? Hadn't Thor said it had been destroyed though? How did his little shit brother get back down here and where was his big brother to hit him in the head with his hammer and send him packing home... again. For longer than two weeks this time please.  
  
    "Hey!" The shout is all promises of bloodshed and destruction over the line, the feed fizzing out again for a moment before coming though clear in a calm woman’s voice- "Report, this is Dispatch, can I get the nearest car over to Market and Third, the old paper mill, there's a B and E in progress. Caller said it's a man in a costume, armed."  
  
    There's a fuzzy moment of feed before a patrol car reports in.  
  
    "Five bucks says that’s our little god." Tony grins, already tearing away from his post high above the sizzling city.   
  
    "I'm not making any more bets, I never win." Rogers voices in obvious disgust, Tony can almost hear the whine though the static. Priceless. Absolutely priceless.   
  
    "You’ll never win if you never try, Cap."   
  
  
    Tony had beaten the Black and White which was good. LAPD wasn’t the kind of backup that Tony needed or wanted, they just ended up being collateral damage at the end of the day. The Jet circling about has all the backup Tony needs but LA isn't designed for the landing of military aircraft outside of runways and bases and he bets they are having a time of their lives trying to find a spot to land.  
      
  
    The old paper mill on Market and Third was quite literally an old paper mill of some kind. A brick monolith constructed sometime in the late fifties from the looks of it, its few broken windows looking like jagged black mouths of a red mortar monster. Condemned over ten years ago according to Jarvis. A standing testament to the fall of economy when a city didn’t even have the extra cash flow to destroy condemned buildings.  
  
    There are two sides of the mill, a five story stack of brick that made up offices and a large open warehouse. Tony was just setting down onto the street when a flicker of green up on the top floor of the offices tells him where he'd found his pray.  
  
    "Listen guys I'm going in, try not to look too disappointed when I'm the only one with my picture in the newspaper tomorrow for bringing this bastard down."   
  
    The verbal fruit salad of no's come over the com in a defining display of disapproval.   
  
    "Jarvis, they’re jealous. Cut that off for me."   
  
    There is no reply of displeasure from his AI as the line is cut dead. Deciding to take the IronMan elevator up Tony uses his boosters to rise up to the top floor and the window now bathed in a mix of lime and kelly green.  
  
      
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
  
    Loki isn't sure what the building is that he's in but that matters little to him. The space is wide enough for his purposes, quiet and located in Midgard, and that is all he needs. Taking his scepter and sweeping it out in a wide arching circle around him he brings a ring of glowing green up from the floor to hover in the air around him at hip height. Nine spheres of varying shades of green forming to settle upon the ring, details forming within; the nine realms at his fingertips.   
  
    He swallows the urge to reach out and swipe Jotenheim from existence.   
  
    He has little time to work with and much precious work to do. Calling upon all elements of his magic as he spreads his arms wide, feeling it move through him like a conductor between the metaphysical world and the realms, like an ocean of energy flowing through his body and rivering out into his work. The glow of the power building till the dust mote filled room becomes a beacon of poison light. Raising his hands and scepter slowly into the air the great tree of Yggdrasil forming slowly in a faint glow of his magic, looking crystalline and beautiful as it sparkles with dust and twinkles with things that are how stars are born.   
  
    The spell he's summoning spills from his lips in perfectly composed langue, the rise and fall of words leaving him on a breath not unlike singing or the chants of monks long past. Power pouring out of his mouth through words and his hands through magic and his mind through will.  
  
    "If this wasn’t so creepy, it would be cool."   
  
    The boisterous voice fills the room, echoing and reverberating through the magic and threatening to break the spell like a fragile spider web in a morning’s dew. The spell wavering but he does his best to ignore the IronMan coming in through the one open window. He’d close his eyes if he could but he must keep track of the spell weaving in the air.   
  
    "You can stop what you’re doing, Loki."   
  
    That voice cuts through again and he turns slowly, giving the mortal his back. Loki's hands lowering down to the formed ring around him. Playing over it like one would a piano or harp, his fingers dancing as he touches faintly visible symbols and characters in all languages of the realms.  
  
    "I said stop."   
  
    The magic trembles again as the infiltrating human takes a step closer, Loki spinning on heel with a hiss of breath, trying not to lose concentration as the magic builds.   
  
    If it was anything else he’d simply stop and attack the infiltrating mortal but this is beyond important. If only the ant could see that. If only he knew what would happen if Loki did not complete the spell.  
  
    “Loki.” The voice is low in warning accompanying by a vibrating hum that causes his magic to shift like a stone thrown into a puddle. Raising his eyes from his work to see a glowing bright palm of the iron suit raised to his chest.   
  
    "This is where you raise your hands, drop the spooky bullshit and go into a cell." The IronMan quips with a tilt of his mechanical head.   
  
    The spell around Loki crashing down around him as his concentration slips in a moment of weakness.   
  
    The shout was in anger at the failing spell but he'd later on see exactly how the foolish human could have taken it as an attack. One momentary lapse of judgment in anger and the whole world will have to pay  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    Tony wasn’t sure what the hell Loki was doing, the sensors on his helmet were going crazy from the energy coming off of the guy, and what the hell of the tree?   
  
    The angry snarl as the illusion started to collapse in a fall of fiery glitter like a child’s forth of July sparkler. Tony fires the blast more out of reaction to the sudden movement from the mage god than anything else. Because really Loki shifting that feral look to him is the same chilling feeling he got moments before the taller man, god, tossed him from his tower.   
  
    Payback’s a bitch. Tony thinks as the energy around Loki seems to react to the blast that sends the god stumbling back though the crashing illusion. Like a sun imploding onto itself before creating a black hole, the air leaving the room in a rapid suction that leaves Tony reeling and Loki wide eyed.   
  
    The sucking implosion of magic turns nuclear and explodes in an outward bubble of pure energy that rush through the suit to cook every electronic in it. The energy humming though his bones and sinking hot fingers into his mind and wrapping a razor wire around his heart as he flies back from the blast into the brick wall behind him. As the hub flickers and blinks off Tony wonders if this has affected his arc reactor before he thinks no more.  
  
      
o0o0o0o0o0o0  
  
  
    The last time Tony had been in such a soundless void he'd been piggybacking a hot nuclear warhead into outer darkness. His heart stuttering and stumbling more than beating in his chest as his lungs try to remember that air is not as thick as jello. Sucking in a breath and choking it back out as he muscles his arms up and pushes the face plate back on his suit.   
  
    It’s a disconcerting feeling, the suit nothing more than a steel weight wrapped around his body like a second glove. What ever that energy blast was it knocked his systems down and from the distant wailing cry of police in the distance, maybe even power for a few blocks. Giving his body another moment to decide if it's going to live before he hefts himself up. Dust and waste from the bricks he'd crashed through raining down from his suit.   
  
    There's no Loki with a spear of death pointed at his head and the reactor is still up and running, the glow a little dull under the protective plate in the suit. Check him out. Point one for Tony Stark.  
  
    "Jarvis?"  
  
    "Clint?"  
  
    "Anyone?"   
  
    Tony's voice echoes emptily thought the dust settling in the room, silence mockingly answering him back with nothingness.  
  
    Right, he's thoroughly screwed.   
  
    When he'd designed Mark VI it had come with a handy failsafe that was suggested by Pepper of all people. A single button that at first he'd scuffed at. Now praised; apparently he owed the lovely Potts more than twelve percent for a single little button that would release his suit from his body without the aid of Jarvis.  
  
    Like everything else he's designed, of course it works perfect. Pushing the cumbersome pieces off his body and flexing his muscles as he rolls his head on his shoulders. Even with the support of the suit he feels like he's gone though a car crash. Aches and tweaks of pain in muscles he hasn’t felt in a long time.   
  
    Rubbing his sore shoulder he climbs back through the nice IronMan sized whole in the wall he'd apparently made. Waving the dust away from his face and clearing his throat.  
  
    The room is empty but there’s an equal sized hole in the opposite wall where obviously the god crashed through.   
  
    Resilient bastard he is...  
  
     "Where are you, you little shit?" Tony calls out, his breath tastes like dust and he spits onto the floor.       
  
    The cough from the next room over is wet, that’s the only way Tony can describe it. Sickeningly wet, like the sound of someone dying in a hospital. He wonders if a homeless man had ended up on the wrong end of Loki's blades as he cautiously steps through the wall. Stopping short.  
  
    "Shit... that's got to hurt." Tony groans, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt to block out the coppery scent of blood that floats in the air with the dust. He’s never been overly fond of blood, not girlish but wisely disgusted he likes to think of it as.  
  
     The Norse god is staggering to his feet, scepter laying forgotten at his feet as his hands wrap tight around the wound, careful not to touch the three or so foot long rebar impaled through the side of his gut. It rises and falls with each panting breath Tony notices. Dribbling blood onto the dust and less desirable things covering the floor.  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "The pain... it's great..." Loki gasps, trying to keep his breathing even and calm. Panic is going to get him no where. Trying to call his powers to himself but nothing comes; in all the nine realms he's empty. Like a used cup tossed aside by an angry child, contents gone in a rash spill and left for waist.   
  
    "No kidding."   
  
    "I... do not jest..."   
  
    "I've hear they've got a nice medical facility over at Shield headquarters. They can patch that up all nice like once you’re behind your little glass box. Maybe remove that, or will you keep it? Kind of goes with the horns."   
  
    Loki ignores the babbling human, his senses grasping for energy that seemed to be just past a fingers reach at this point.   
  
    "Shut your mouth, you babbling evolutionary larva." He hisses, tearing his eyes away from the IronMan and wrapping his fingers around the metal bar protruding through him.       
  
    Loki is completely unable to stop the gasp as the touch jars the length of steel. In any other situation he'd have been amused at the groan from the mortal man across the room but at present Loki is far more concentrated on keeping himself standing and not greeting the dust covered floor with little grace.   
  
    "I wouldn’t do that." The dirty hand is reaching for his as the Avenging human stumbles across the hole in the wall.  
  
    "You’d present me to your superiors like a boar with a spear through it, still wild and thrashing? Do you not fear that if gotten too close? Mayhap I lash out? Rabid?" He stumbles as a hand grabs his wrist; the fingers are surprisingly gentle for the emotion clouded look in the mahogany eyes that meet his.  
  
    "I'm not a monster."  
  
    "No. I am." Loki groans gritting his teeth as trying to pull away only causes the bar to wobble, his blood slipping down and off of it like water from a faucet the pitter patter drowned out by his panting breath.  
  
    "But I'm not."   
  
    The brown eyes are too much like Thor’s in that moment, much too full of pity and nothing disgusts Loki more now than that. He’s embraced who he is inside; the rest of the world needs to get with the act. Jerking his hand from the IronMan’s hold he swallows down the bitter acid in the back of his throat, grabs the bar and pries.  
  
    His choked back scream gags him, caught in his throat as his lungs burn and his heart leaps. The pain is worse than ever before, his powers have gone leaving nothing to damper it, there is no itch of fast healing muscle and skin only the white hot flash of agony.   
  
    The world under him shifts and tilts and he thinks its all him but the IronMan stumbles too, reeling backwards as the room trembles and then outright shakes. Dust raining down onto him as the bar drops from his hands the running river of blood peppered with it like snow falling from the roof.   
  
    The sound of a lion’s roar drowns out what ever Midgardian term the IronMan blurts out in shock, his eyes comically wide. Loki's knees meeting the floor with a jarring force and for one fleeting moment in time amongst the chaos and pain mahogany meets emerald, god and human come to an understanding, a communion of minds, before the black veil of nothingness pulls over Loki's mind.  
  
    ...help?  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    The Jet is just touching down just as the earthquake starts, Rogers grabbing onto Natasha to stop her from tumbling with the force of it. Bruce already scrambling out of the plane and onto more solid, albeit moving, ground. The close circuit communication between Shield and them static’s alive with disorder. The flying fortuitous is far away from the ground trouble but clearly watching what his happening.   
  
    "Go. Go." Clint pushes against Rogers back to get him moving again, startled into motion, his feet take him out into the open small field they'd found to land in. The trees around them swaying with the motion, the rumble from the city around them is threatening like a monster awakening from its slumber. Angry. Very angry monster.   
  
    "How are you?" He shouts over the din to Banner, watching for sighs of other angry things.  
  
    "What? This? I'm fine. Earthquakes are fun." The chipper reply is all sarcasm but Banner seems to be in order and control. Thank you god.   
  
    The sound stops just as fast as the shaking, nature and humanity taking an accumulated breath before sirens start to wail and shouts of help come from the broken rubble of buildings.   
  
    "That was what, an eight?" Clint breathes, his hands on his knees and still trying to get his bearings from the rattle.  
  
    "I'd almost say nine. I'm no seismologist but I'd say the epicenter had to be right below us."  
  
    "And that's normal?"  
  
    "Welcome to LA men. Do we know where Stark is?" Fury’s voice is an unwelcome sound though the speakers of there Bluetooth’s.   
  
    "He’s gone off the grid approximately five minutes before the earthquake sir." Natasha answers, her hand held up to her ear as she strides back to the jet. "We have his last coordinates."  
  
    "Good. Head there."  
  
    "With all do respect Sir... I think the civilians can use help right now too." Rogers frowns, grabbing his shield as Natasha tosses it in his direction. Banner is already walking away though the short brown grass of the field, waving his hands to some children that come running from a near by apartment building.   
  
    Steve respects that, the man with so many complications is still out to do nothing but stop problems in the world. They think alike there. Humanity must be saved above all.  
  
    "With all due respect Captain; Loki is a bigger threat than a little shaking."   
  
    "Sir, the city is-"  
  
    "GO!" Fury’s voice over shouts his leaving his head ringing and Clint removing his earpiece. Natasha watches him with a shrewd look.  
  
    "How I see it is if we see anyone in need of help along the way. It’s only right to stop." Clint says, strapping his bow over his back and pulling out the small emergency first aid kit from the Jet.  
  
    "If we didn’t, were no more heroes than Loki is, or Hydra or some Jihad." Clint says, tossing Natasha the bag, she's unmoving for a moment before her eyes soften as she looks to Bruce across the field. Her hair bobbing as she nods it quickly.  
  
  


	2. 2

  
    Tony came to a second time that day with a pounding headache, the deep kind that wasn’t the result of alcohol but instead threatened that his head had been cracked open by blunt force. His mind coming on slowly and carefully out of the pain induced fog. Right. He was in a dilapidated building, with Loki, when an earthquake hit the size of a sumo wrestler.   
  
    Reaching up slowly as he opens his eyes, Tony feels along his hairline sucking in a breath of pain before coughing it back out again. Fuck the floors dirty. Dirty. Dirty. Nasty. Fuck. Gagging Tony forces himself up despite the way his stomach lurches and his mind threatens to turn off.   
  
    The room around him is almost completely dark, only a little light filtering through some larger cracks in the bricks. His arc reactor giving off more light at the moment, bathing everything in an electric pale blue glow. It makes the dust look like snow and the blood look like oil.   
  
    "Lo'hek-" Tony has to cough and clear his throat a few times before trying again, his voice beyond scotch rough and into ruined. Holding a hand to his pain filled head he turns slowly, casting his light around the room in search. Maybe the god is gone, poofed off to lick his wounds, but no, that thought is replaced with disgusted horror when the body comes into view.   
  
    The sickly looking blood pooled under the god’s abdomen shines in the light as Tony shifts, the shadows wavering and dancing with the movement.   
  
    "You alive?" He asks, part morbid curiosity and part distaste for being in the same room as dead things. Slowly crawling across the floor, pushing bricks and pieces of what had once been wood shelving out of his way as he makes it over to the unmoving god. His palm coming down on cold metal, raising it slowly to find it's come away damp in blood.   
  
    Tony has to swallow down the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat, burning worse then the best Scotch. God. The bar.   
  
    That had been in Loki.   
  
    "Answer me, you little shit." Tony hisses, wiping his hand pointlessly on his dust covered pants before reaching out. The shake of his fingers casting spider leg shadows across the black leather and golden armor before he grabs onto the hard thin shoulder.   
  
    There’s no response as he rolls the Asgardian god over. Black hair spilling like ink against the cheep linoleum floor, skin so pale in the arc's glow. To pale.   
  
    "Oh, god." He groans, pushing the god’s collar aside and his shaking fingers search out a butterfly soft pulse.   
  
    "Oh, thank you, god." He sinks down onto his side in a boneless lurch, keeping his hand to the cool neck and the fluttering pulse. His own heart stumbling more than beating in his chest as he collects a breath he didn’t even realize he'd been holding till his lunges had burned like fire.  
  
    Blinking lazily against the dust in the air Tony chokes out a bitter, lifeless laugh at himself and this stupidity behind the situation.  
  
    "I... see not... the humor..." The throat under his hand moves as Loki swallows, feeling the whisper thin voice more than hearing it.  
  
    "You’re alive." Tony points out, sitting up and removing his hand from the god’s neck. What was once bright green eyes open slowly, glassy and washed out in the glow of the arc.   
  
    "Regrettably." Eyes close again, long dark lashes leaving bruise like shadows on his sharp cheeks. The throat moves again in a slow thick swallow. "Most regrettably."   
  
    Tony isn’t the kind of man who's rendered silent easily; he doesn’t know how to handle it when it happens. Getting up slowly he staggers back a few steps before dusting himself off. It’s much like trying to clean his clothes with dirty water; the end has no greater outcome than what was there originally, the normalcy of the act is a soothing balm though.   
  
    "Right, regrettably enough it was you that put us in this situation too." Tony points out, curious about the lack of venom in his voice. At least he's found it again. For a moment he'd been worried it was gone for good, ate up by his heart and some nameless emotion the bleeding god had brought out.   
  
    Loki doesn’t respond and maybe can’t, he's unmoving again aside from the subtle rise and fall of armor covered chest.  
  
    Tony walks around the parameter of their brick cell, finding the hole he'd climbed through originally gone, fallen through with rubble from what could possibly be the roof. Shit. Leading with his hand against the wall and walking in slow shuffles he finds a door out.   
  
    "I could be in Malibu... or eating pizza... No. I'm stuck in a shit hole with your bleeding ass because you had to go try and take over the world. Again." He continues as he rattles the handle, it's not locked but it swings outward and there's shit blocking the way.  
  
    "I could be having sex, long and blond, maybe red head, big tits. Not. This." Ramming his shoulder against the door only causes him to see stars, and really the door doesn’t budge.   
  
    "Shit!" He shouts at it in frustration and the perpetual reminder that he's nothing without his suit. He’s not IronMan, he's Tony Fucking Stark. A lab monkey, not hero.  
  
    He leans back to ram his shoulder again but a pale hand presses against the door, stopping him with a stumble.  
  
    "I'd prefer... no more visuals of your sexual preferences... thank-you." Loki breathes out, his swaying body hunched over around his bleeding abdomen bringing him closer to Tony's height; the scepter in his hands reduced to the royal act of cane.  
  
    "You look like shit." Tony says dully, keeping his voice casual, still not sure why he's not been stabbed yet.   
  
    "Thank you." A black brow arches elegantly over hazy green eyes. Sure. Of course he's got no clue what that means. On Asgard insults probably involve illicit acts with goats.  
  
    "Walking out of here like a human? What, your glow stick broken?"   
  
    "At the moment... I will walk."   
  
    Tony narrows his eyes at the honest sounding comment, because frankly if he had super powers and teleportation he'd have left already. Loki ignores the suspicious look though, his eyes dropping to the floor before looking back to Tony.  
  
    "You going to stand there and bleed or help me with the door?"   
  
    "I will help." That thin mouth opens and then closes as though there was another comment to be added but the god is silent. The two shifting around before leaning against the door.   
  
    Heave, ho.   
  
    Rubble scrapes as it is forced open, dust sprinkling down onto them.   
  
    "So tell me, was that you? The Earthquake? Was this your fault?" Tony asks stepping out into the hall as the god’s heavy breath fills the silent space. Looking back to see the god leaning back against his staff and the doorway eyes closed tight. "Was that your game? Sink the city into the ocean? It’s creative, I'll give you that."   
  
    "No." The response is accompanied by eyes opening, momentarily flashing angry and vivid green again before it’s gone so fast Tony's not sure if he even saw it. "No. it was not I. Midgard itself created that... a monster moves under the earth, hot and angry."   
  
    "An earthquake is hardly a monster."  
  
    "And an alien is hardly a god." Waving a dignified hand through the air Loki pushes Tony away from him as he moves out into the hall. "It is all... how do you say it... it is all in how you look at it?"   
  
    For a mad man, there's a deeper wisdom behind the words than Tony's ever heard from Thor.   
  
    "I'm a man of science, it doesn’t work that way, and one plus one always equals two." Dark hair shakes in front of him, leaning against a wall with peeling paper as Loki breaths deep and then choughs again, blood staining his lips.   
  
    "No. not always. In many things, never."   
  
    "I can’t believe I'm talking theories with a crazy evil villain." Tony groans, rubbing his dust covered, itchy face. "I need a shower."  
  
    “I will be ecstatic for both of us.”  
  
    “You’re a pleasant soul, aren’t you? My god. I should have just shot you in the head when you were playing with your tree.”  
  
    "You did attack me first."   
  
    "What?" Tony asks, looking up in shock, he can’t believe of all the things for Loki to say that was it. "I-I What?"   
  
    "You attacked me." Loki says again, slowly like he's speaking to a child. Tony can imagine him using that tone on Thor.   
  
    "You were... that thing and the tree... and..."   
  
    "Use your words IronMan, I thought you were the smartest of the Avenging heroes."   
  
    "It’s Tony right now. You were doing something, suspicious. It could have been an attack."  
  
    "It could have."  
  
    "But it wasn’t?" Confusion knots in his fuzzy mind and makes his throat dry.   
  
    "I didn’t say that," Loki hisses.  
  
    "You’re right, you are a monster, why would I question what you were doing? What right did I have to not want to stop a known monster from doing an unknown act? Shame. On. Me." Tony was ready for the fire back, he was prepared for the fight but it didn’t come. Loki pushes himself away from the wall and continues his slow dragging steps away into the dark.   
  
    There's only one way to go down the hall, if there was another Tony surely would have headed into it. Frowning at the retreating back before following, not to follow, but from lack of choices. Trying to look at the floor and not tripping, refusing to stare at blood stained green cloak.   
  
    The sound of a heavy weight hitting the wall brings his eyes up despite his best efforts. The god having tripped, or simply fallen, sinking down the wall. It goes against Tony's better judgment as he rushes over a few piles of fallen rubble to Loki's side.   
  
  
O0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "You’re bleeding badly."   
  
    "I fear so." Loki’s breath rattles as he tries to suck down the air needed to keep moving. Bleeding is such a tame word for what is running down his side and filling his organs, a torrent of plasma sounds far more poetic.   
  
    "You’re bleeding.” IronMan, Tony says again, his voice is closer and Loki forces his eyes open, the soft blue glow between them making the mortal humans face all soft edges. Brown eyes lit blue almost as though under the thrall of the Tesseract.   
  
    "You do enjoy pointing that fact out, yes." He grunts in the most undignified way as he settles down on the threshold of the wall and floor.   
  
    Tony is blessedly silent for a moment, those thrall lit brown eyes searching down over his body, it's an invading feeling but Loki is far to removed from the situation by pain to take any offence. "I don’t get it."  
  
    He breaths out a sigh before turning his eyes up to Tony, "Do not get what?"   
  
    "Why you’re not healed and poofed out of here. The Hulk remolded my tile floor with your body and you walked away with some cuts and bruises. I've never seen Thor bleed once; I was beginning to wonder if it's even possible for you guys from Asgard to be hurt."   
  
    "As much as I loathe doing so, I must remind you that I am not of Asgard, and as for why I do not heal." He looks away, swallowing down blood and bile before speaking again, The truth is as easy flowing as lies can be for him, and in some situations the best answer. "Assume at this moment I am as mortal as you."   
  
    "Why?"  
  
    "That is your favorite question. Can you not have the mind to just except things for face value?"   
  
    Stark's eyes narrow and he pushes his hand though his dust covered mused hair before nodding. "Okay, fine. Let’s get all that costume off then."   
  
    What?!  
  
    "What?" Loki struggles to right himself and return to his feet. To converse, even if a witty and bladed banter, with an enemy is a far cry from unarming yourself for them. Panic like acid wraps its burning claws around his stomach as he attempts to lurch to his feet.  
  
    "Just stop it, okay." The mortal man growls, grabbing onto his shoulders and forcing him back down with a tug. His damning weak body giving in as it’s forced down.    
  
    "I don’t know if you've noticed yet but without my suit I'm just a man, I'm not going to hurt you. Hell even if I wanted to all I could do is maybe scratching your eyes out like a girl. The clear thing about this all though is that you’re in the same situation. Right? You’re... without you’re..." the mortal's words slowly down till there nearly falling from his mouth.   
  
    Loki pushes the mortal’s hands away from him and turns his head away. The knowing look in the humans eyes is far to clear, he see’s too much for his own good, much more than many humans ever will. The translucent quality to his own situation is disturbing. Is it the mortal man, or is he simply that defenseless that even a mere child like mortal can see it?    
  
    "Right. Ah...." The man is still thumbing for words as Loki looks back to him.  
  
    "They are right than, saying that you are the smartest of the avenging humans." He notes, saving the man from making a further wreck of the moment simply because it ill eases Loki.   
  
    "It’s the magic right. I am right there." The avenging human says sitting back on his heels a bit away from him, the light from his chest disappearing for one black moment as the man rubs his face. "That... what ever it was you were doing. It used it all up?"  
  
    "No, the fall of the spell did. It was not meant to end that way." He admits, not having the energy left in him to stand let alone wave a proper lie. When the spell collapsed Loki was wide open to it, siphoning not just his own magic but the power of all the nine realms into the spell. When it ruptured and the power scattered, his own went with it.   
  
    The man looks as though for a moment he's going to say sorry but thinks better of it, wise mortal indeed. "Will it..." the mouth closes again with a frown, deep brown eyes looking away into the darkness of the hall.  
  
    "It will return with time. Yes."  
  
    "Any kind of time estimate?" The IronMan asks, looking back to him with a tilt of his head. "I'd like to know just so I know when to run."   
  
    "And to report to your commanding officer." Loki says, rubbing a hand to his aching temple only to pull it away in disgust finding it wet with his own blood.   
  
    "Scouts honor, this information is only for me."   
  
    He feels like he's wedge between his own flagging immortality and the fact he needs aid. If he can get ‘Stark’ to ally with him till out of the building then Loki can find himself a way to flee before the solders come to drag him away.   
  
    "Two, mayhap three weeks." He's guessing really, he's not been this empty of power since he was young and just learning the arts. Many spells blew up at that time. Many.  
  
    The breathed out ’oh’ is fallowed by a sigh that sounds suspiciously like 'shit'.   
  
    What ever other quips the mortal was going to add to the situation it is lost in a low rumble that builds, sounding something akin to a stampede of horses. The earth shaking once more. The building around them groaning with the movements, dust and rubble sprinkling and then rushing more rapidly down onto them.   
  
    "Shit!" The mortal’s voice cuts through the noise as rough hands grab his shoulders and pulls him down. His side and stomach wrenching a gasping scream from his mouth as the building tries to swallow them whole.   
  
    He almost wishes it would be successful. Death would be a comforting sleep to this pain.  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "I do not... enjoy this... moving..." Loki's voice groans in the once more quiet darkness, all Tony can think is 'who turned out the light?' before realizing the heavy weight on his chest is blocking it.  
  
    "Fuck, you’re heavy for a skinny bastard." Tony grunts, pushing his hands against the armor covered body, Loki pulling himself free and up as the pale light returns to the hall again, neither moving far from the tangled heap they'd landed in.  
  
    Tony brushes dust off his body and sits up looking to the wounded god. His lips are a pale slash there closed so tight, breathing shallow panting breaths though his nose. Green eyes only a sliver in the pale light.   
  
    "Are you going to puke? You look like your going to puke."   
  
    Green eyes open a bit more, curious and sick looking.   
  
    "Heave, ah, vomit, gag, up-chucking it?"   
  
    "I know what you speak of, and no, I am just unwell." Well if that's not an understatement then Tony doesn’t know what is. This isn't going to end well, Loki isn’t healing without his mojo voodoo and if he doesn’t get some kind of help soon, he'll be dead. The god has taken on a sickly pale glow in the arc's light that makes his normal skin tone look beach tan. Even if Tony’s no doctor the cold sweats and shakes sign the deal.   
  
    "Let me help you. Come on; give me a hand with that armor." Tony tries again, not waiting for a no or a grumble from the god before reaching out and attacking the armor. Loki goes wide eyed like a spooked horse before nodding his head.   
  
    Tony doesn’t know if the willingness to have help is a good thing or if it simply shows how close to death the proud god really is.   
  
    Loki's armor isn't all that different from the suit prior to the Pepper button only a little more medieval; buckles and snaps replace gears and screws. Tony wasn’t sure if the god wore anything under the heavy gold and leather armor but after the pieces come off he's pleased to see a thin spun tunic that ties at the neck.   
  
    "You know... this morning if you'd told me I'd be undressing you... I'd have laughed, and maybe cried." Tony says trying to keep the mood light as he peels the black tunic off of the gods belly, the skin and fabric sickeningly stuck together with blood.   
  
    "I could definitely use a drink right now." He says dryly, it's like a Band-Aid and nothing more he tells himself, pulling the fabric up quickly the rest of the way.   
  
    Loki bares bloody teeth at him, his back bowing up in a sharp arch and nearly meets the dirty floor once more if not for Tony quickly grabbing onto a thin shoulder.  
  
    "Don’t pass out. Passing out is bad right now." He should know he’s been hit on the head enough times to know. "Well look at that, it's not that bad looking."  
  
    The wound is slowly oozing blood that's as thick as syrup, a small compact hole that outwardly looks superficial but Tony has no clue what's leaking below the surface. Organs could be pierced; blood could be... doing what blood does inside people. Bad things that Tony can’t even imagine.   
  
    "It feels... considerably worse." Loki looks down at his own wound, his hair falling in a black curtain over his face. Hisses between pants, his hands have a white knuckle hold on Tony's dirty jeans.   
  
    "I bet it does, buddy." Tony says, glancing down to the floor and around them. Searching for something relatively clean that he can wrap the wound in, green catching his eye. "You attached to that cape of yours? Can I shred it up?" He asks grabbing the fabric, it's far from clean but it's not covered in rat shit.   
  
    "I care little. Use it."   
  
    Tony nods at that ripping the cape up into long strips of green, folding two of the strips into wadding before looking back to the god. Loki's eyes have fallen closed but he's still sitting up on his own. Green eyes slowly crack open at the silence.   
  
    "I'm going to need your help for this, hold this here." He directs thin elegant hands to gently hold one makeshift fabric gauze pad to the front little hole as Tony shakes out his third length of fabric, wrapping it slowly around the thin waist, making sure the other pad is against the second slow leaking hole on his back.   
  
    "Don’t. Pass. Out." He reminds the swaying god as he pulls the binding tight, wrapping it around a second time before tying it off. Tony slowly looks up; the dull green eyes watching him would be un-nerving. Would, but aren’t' and Tony doesn’t know what to think of that, so he doesn’t.  
  
    Untangling his legs from Loki's and stumbling to his feet, his ass numb for sitting to long on the hard floor. "Sit, stay. I'm going to look for stairs or something. Someone had to pick the top flood to do their evil bidding, next time do us both a favor and pick something easier to get out of... like a card board box."  
  
    The chuckle from Loki is dry as the god shifts to lean back against the wall. It’s a nice sound only because dead things don’t take the energy to laugh.  
  
    Tony follows the hall, the pale blue glow lighting his way to a second hall, left, no other choice. Having to step over what at one time was probably a filing cabinet to get to a door marked clearly with a sign satiating 'stairs'. His whoop of joy echoes through the hall. Trying the door and finding with little difficulty that it opens the stairs clear for the most part of rubble. Homeward bound baby.   
      
  
O0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "Give her to me." Rogers calls down to Clint who's trying to climb down a rickety fire escape ladder with a small toddler in his arms, her pigtail hair bouncing as Clint leaps from one level to another. The steel structure giving a high pitch whine of metal scratching against metal.   
  
    "Catch." He calls down, holding her over the railing edge. The master assassin whisper something to the girl and she holds her arms out like a baby bird about to take flight, Clint lets her drop down and her laughter echoes about them giving a moment of joy to the horrors around them. Steve catches her with ease and sets her safely into the arms of the woman next to him, she’s thanking him in a blur of Spanish before Bruce leads her away from the crumbling building.   
  
    "That’s the last one." Clint says, leaping down and landing with a crunch of boots on glass. He dusts his hands as his eyes examine the building from the outside; the dangerous sideways lisp isn’t going to stay up for many more of the aftershocks.   
  
    "Good. Come on. We've still got over ten blocks to cover before we even get to Tony's last radar blip." Rogers says, walking back down to the street where people are wondering. It’s a war zone, only this is no villain the Avengers can fight against, no outward evil. He feels battle weary and useless in a situation like this.   
  
    A hand clasping his shoulder startling him from his thoughts, glancing to the side and seeing Bruce's weary smile.  
  
    "Don’t. Don’t even begin loosing hope. I was in Nepal the day after a mudslide a year back. I spent a week digging in that muck. There... the children. They were the hardest to find. I thought I was going to loose it, I wanted to leave when three days in I found a small hand sticking up though the rubble. I dug anyways. She was alive. A little girl, maybe two years old had survived in an air pocket for four full days. You never give up hope." Banner offers a weak smile before stuffing his hands back into his pockets and walking further down the street.   
  
    Steve swallows before following, everyone is wrong. They aren’t just heroes because of powers or special suits, it's in their hearts and souls. He can only hope Tony is okay out here in this war with nature, maybe doing good too, although with Stark, that might be asking for too much.

 


	3. 3

  
    Tony's got one hand against the wall and his battered cell phone in his other, frowning down at the blank screen with open disgust. "You know. I designed this to be impact resistant."  
  
    "It was the magic." Loki says from behind him, drawing his attention back. He's not looking any better now with the wound wrapped but the threatening air is gone with the armor. He just looks hurt. Tony looks away again back down to his cell.   
  
    "Right, its collapse released some kind of EMP. It fried my suit too." Tapping a finger to his arc, he cocks a head to the side; thoughts flitting through his mind at as rapid a speed as they can with his spinning head ache. "Not this though, any clue why?"   
  
    "Magic has a life of its own. Like a living breathing thing, not a device. It wanted you to live for some reason."  
  
    Right. Like 'for some reason' didn’t sound sarcastic. Tossing the ruined phone to the floor Tony climbs over the file cabinet and offers Loki a hand that's only greeted with a dignified arch of black eyebrow.  
  
    "Don’t worry; I only hold hands on first dates."  
  
    "I do not need help." Loki snaps, his frown a slash across his face.  
  
    "Then don’t call it help. Call it... superficial wound aid."  
  
    "That is a mouth full, but suiting." The god still hesitates for a moment before his hand sets into Tony's, leaning heavily as he climbs over the cabinet. It’s cool and slim in Tony’s hand despite being larger, helping the best he can to support the god as he struggles to climb over the cabinet.  
  
    "I have a hard time seeing you and Thor as brothers." Tony says as Loki pulls his hand back, the gods two handed grip returning to the staff as he levels out again. True he's just trying to fill the silence but he's also curious how someone honestly did not see the difference between the two men.   
  
    "Because we are not." Loki says his green eyes glaring in the dim light. Clearly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. Tread carefully mortal, there be sharks in that water.  
  
    "No. I just... I've seen you enough, not just bleeding, but crazy and you’re nothing like him. He would have stormed earth swinging his hammer and demanding more coffee. You, you snuck up on us like a snake in the grass and struck us where it hurt before we even knew what was happening."   
  
    If the god see’s the complement in the words he makes no comment about it, his eyes cast down to the ground as he walks slowly so Tony plows on.   
  
    "I'm just puzzled about how it was a surprise to you, this whole adopted thing. Did you never look at your brother and see his blond hair and blue eyes?"  
  
    "It is true; I had always felt apart from him, from everyone in Asgard. I always knew I was different. Our manner of speaking and thinking and physical strengths. but-" Loki stops, closing his eyes and shaking his head, hair sweeping down around his jaw from where it's come free of its more prim style. When they open again they're far away. The open honesty in the words is painful to listen to. It exhibits a hope that was clearly destroyed.   
  
    "But you still wanted a family." Tony says, hating that pang in his chest that he feels. Evil bad guys bent on world domination aren’t supposed to have sad stories; they’re supposed to be mad because Ihop didn’t have their favorite flavor of pancakes or something equally stupid. The reality of Loki's situation makes what he's done almost believable as a moment of true broken hearted insanity. Of all the people in the world, Tony can understand that.  
  
    "Is that so hard to believe?" Loki says with a sigh that ends on a hiss of pain. "That the snake in the grass still craved closeness it was denied its whole life?" He turns fast on his heel despite the wound, green eyes angry and hurt as he brings himself nose to nose with Tony. For all it's worth he doesn’t feel scared. Much. Although his throat refuses to work enough for him to reply.  
  
    "So to answer your question yes, IronMan, I did look upon my brother and see that I was not like him. I looked upon everyone I saw in Asgard and saw how different I was. Foolish hope kept me from believing what I saw." Loki hisses, venom dripping from the words and leaving a burn upon Tony soul.    
  
    Tony doesn’t give chase or say anything else as Loki turns back around and continues on down the hall, his steps slow but steady, back straight with what little pride he has left.   
  
    Shit. He didn’t know what he'd expected honestly but the pain and anger in the other man was not it.   
      
  
o0oo0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    The mortal is silent by his side again, the hall wide enough for them to walk abreast and for that Loki is glad, the pale light from the man’s chest contraption keeps him from stumbling so much. Other than that, Loki wants him dead. Anthony Stark, the IronMan, the true devil of the avenging humans is a very dangerous mortal. The mind behind the metal suit is a weapon greater than the dull green creature ever could hope to be.  
  
    He feels raw and edged, like a wound has torn open and his insides have fallen out in a moment of vulnerability. Leaving him empty and scrambling to scoop the pieces back in. He fears nothing will fit again though that this gaping fissure will only continue to seep.  
  
    It’s all the mortal’s fault.  
  
    "Do you have a cell phone?" the Avenging human breaks the silence.  
  
    "No. I have no need for humanities pointless quest for communication." No. He wears loneliness like an intimate cloak.   
  
    "So you have no one to call." The ever observing human points out, brown eyes shifting over to him in the dim.   
  
    Sighing heavily and regretting it because of the bite of pain, he shakes his head. "No mortal. I have no one to call."  
  
    The peace only lasts a moment before broken again. The mortal’s endless quest for babble breaking the silence like a window struck by a rock.  
  
    "My father took me to this park once when I was little. It was one of the few things I ever remember doing with him as a child." He shoots Tony a scathing look but doesn’t quiet the man; if nothing else, his chatter is like the tap of a metronome, ticking off the drop of time.   
  
    "There was this street magician there. Making flowers for girls, pulling coins from kids ears. It was all simple tricks. I was wowed. For the first time in my life I remember being wowed, in that moment, it was all so real. I could believe in something without having to take it apart or see it tick."  
  
     The mortal swallows, pushing a hand through his messed hair making it stand on end, his eyes getting lost for a moment as his palm comes away russet with blood, "My father though, he stood there and tore the man apart right in front of me. Every trick he did, Dad explained; he destroyed the magic and the wonder. I'd never believed after that."  
  
    "Your father, you have no love for him?" Loki finds himself asking, the hall coming to an end at a door Tony opens with ease. Neither men move though, their eyes in an agreement to not meet.   
  
    "Hell no. He was an ass. Nothing I could ever do was enough for him. And trust me, I did a lot." The words ring too clear and true to his own heart for Loki’s liking, frowning at the twist in his gut.  
  
    "Magic is very real." He says dully to change the subject, although from what he's seen few, if any, Midgardians have the ability to tap into true power.   
  
    "I've begun to notice that." Tony says, stepping down a few steps before stopping to wait for Loki's slower movements. "But without my dad doing that, who knows what I'd have done with my life. That moment of magic I was hooked on, I could see my whole life unfolding in a different direction. One with tigers and naked girls."  
  
    "It does not sound much different than yours is now."   
  
    "Nah." The mortal says with a wave of his hand and a soft chuckle that Loki is loathe to admit he enjoys. "I wanted that magic the man was doing to be like yours. Real. But it wasn’t."  
  
    "I have yet to see someone on this realm with true powers."   
  
    "Maybe we don’t have the mojo. Science was as close as I could get to that real magic though. So I guess in some round about way I still chased after it."  
  
    "And?" He questions, not sure if the man really has a point behind this conversation at all, although he's sure the human is hedging at something. Everyone has an endgame, every word ever said has a purpose.  
  
    "Well... I'm a super genius, scientist, and architect. I'd make a good wizard I think, you could loan me your glow stick, I can put super mojo on my suit."  
  
    "Mage." He corrects him and shakes his head. So that is the agenda of the conversation. He‘s almost bitter at always being right, for once he‘d enjoy the act of communication without the binding need to check and mark every word. "No. You would not. The power is not for everyone, it is easy to corrupt its use."  
  
    The mortal is silent next to him, no longer walking down the stairs and blinking owlishly as Loki looks back. His face tight with the smile he’s holding back, the bemused look is very becoming on the mortal.   
  
    "A super villain who tried to take over the earth just said I can’t learn magic because I'M too corruptible?" He fakes a stumble, holding a hand over his heart but not blocking the artificial light. "My god, am I really that evil inside?"   
  
    "Only evil would know." Loki can’t help but let the grin show, the banter turning to teasing between them not unlike what he and Thor had once. Only not. Thor was much more mentally dull.  
  
    "Burn. That really burns." The mortal grosses, walking back down the stairs with him. They pass a level place and a door that directs they've gone down exactly one floor. Loki doesn’t want to acknowledge that he will need rest soon, his body is growing weaker, not stronger.   
  
    What little strength is left in him flags as the stairwell beneath them disappears beneath rubble.   
  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0  
  
  
  
    Bruce is surprisingly useful as he is, first aid running the gambit between broken arms and heads hit by falling rubble. He's there, having gone through their little first aid box before they'd left the first building, well into the second or third now? Clint isn’t sure. People keep bringing them things, supplies to help others, the quiet man spinning a spider web of helping hands through the city.   
  
    Natasha is as calm and cold as he's ever seen her. Giving orders and sending people away from buildings they should have enough common sense to avoid on their own. She speaks enough languages that nothing gives her pause.  
  
    Rogers is, as always, a hero, his blue and white costume dusted with dirt but still standing as proud as the American flag it stands for.   
  
    Clint can see it though, in all of them with all their strength and stamina the cracks are there, just under the surface and threatening to break into a million little pieces with the right tap. Tony is that tap. With every person they come across they ask. The whispers of questions passing lips from person to person.   
  
    "Have you seen IronMan?"   
  
    The residual answer is always no, dust covered heads shaking in shame because they bare too much burden themselves at the moment to begin to care about another loss or worry.   
  
    It makes Clint bitter and pissed, hot acid anger clenching in a fist around his heart as they ignore the questions or ask for autographs, only the best of them giving an honest negative answer. Few dare to outright spit in the face of the heroes. Those that make Clint crave the days he served under Loki, the ease of putting assholes in their place was a shockingly soothing act to his mind. How much of a murderer he is at heart when the opportunity of unbidden, unrestrained action is allowed.   
  
    Clenching his bow in a white knuckled grip a large part of Clint only wants to find Tony and get the fuck out of this place. He doesn’t belong with these people, he's not even sure if he belongs with the Avengers. He’s disgusted to admit it but Loki showed him something and like good beer or sex, has removed his appreciation or tolerance for the smaller things of life. Outright destroyed it.  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
      
    "Oh shit, man..." He groans, scrubbing his hands to his face as Loki sinks to the stairs next to him like a deflating balloon. The god’s boots nudging the rubble blocking the way. Tony sinks down too for a moment, his head in his hands. His head is swimming to the point he’s sick to his stomach, Loki’s labored breaths punctuating the silence and desperation around them. He feels like hell and this isn’t helping.   
  
    "I'm going back up to the door we passed." He says bouncing to his feet because sitting and doing nothing but watching Loki die and waiting for the building to swallow him up like a hungry monster are two things not on his itinerary for the day.   
  
    "Go IronMan. I will wait." Loki breathes out shifting to lean against the wall, his once bright eyes a little duller.   
  
    "Hey, here is a novel idea. While I'm gone, try to practice saying Tony, okay?" He drawls before going back up the stairs. Down is better, down is nice but up is the only direction available. "TONY" He yells to the god below before he takes a deep calming breath. Spending an oddly long moment standing on the landing with his hand on the doorknob. It’s very likely that this could not open. Very likely they’re trapped and dead. What if this is all an episode of LOST and they don’t even know it yet? Do people even know when they die?   
  
    "Fuck Stark, get it get it together." He groans, rubbing his shaking clammy hand on his dust covered pants before grabbing the knob again. Swinging the door wide open without a problem.  
  
    "Heh."

 


	4. 4

  
    "Get your ass up! Get up!" Tony's shouts as he tries to get down the stairs as fast as he can without slipping and falling down them. If only the earth would stop moving beneath him, it would be a much easier job. Dust and pebbles raining down as he makes it to the god.   
  
    Loki struggles in the dim light worse than Tony, his long limbs uncoordinated as he gets to his feet, face a pale set of pain and just a bone chilling hint of terror. Gods shouldn’t be afraid and it’s a scary fucking situation when they are.  
  
    Tony snaps the scepter from the floor and wraps his arm around the wounded god's waist doing his best to support the lean weight. Loki turns his face into Tony's shoulder leaning against him in a trembling mess, the dignified god gone and replaced by something Tony is completely unfamiliar with.   
  
    "Come on, up. Up. I found a map. We’re getting out of here. It was right on the other side of the damn door."  
  
    "How?" The word is a wheezed breath as Loki stumbles on falling bricks nearly taking them both down to the ground, spidery hand gripping tight to Tony's shoulder as he regains his footing.   
  
    "There’s a second set of stairs that go down to the second floor and warehouse." Grunting he tries not to rush the flagging god too much but shit!  
  
    The shaking grows worse and the building moans like a whore as the two climb its steps in a rushed pace, panicked but both in control enough to hide the terror.   
  
    A violent monster below the earth threatens to tear the world apart, it's spine pushing against the rocks that the very world are set upon as it lashes out in an unmatched anger.   
  
    Tony pushes Loki through the door with a growled ‘go’ as the crashing reaches a height, only to have the shaking slap the door shut in his face. His last glimpsing of the god is one with a horrified pale face and green eyes impossibly big and scared in the blackness before Tony backs up, stumbling to keep his balance, bricks and wood dropping down onto him as the floor above caves in.   
  
    He should think of Pepper, or how Rogers would be proud; maybe not, but he worries instead for the wounded god on the other side of the door with his last thoughts. Something hard and blunt striking the back of his head before he has a chance to get his arms up around himself.   
  
      
o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "Oh, fuck." Tony groans turning onto his side and letting the tremors wrack his body, his stomach working and emptying as he’s eased off his side and into the arms of someone else. The unsteady hold keeping him from landing in his own mess as his throat burns.   
  
    When he's sure he can breathe again Tony turns from the mess and falls back onto his side, his headache before was bad but this is worse. He’s sure he's bleeding by the sticky feel of his hair and he's sure he's cracked his skull because his stomach is threatening to go again because laying there and breathing is too much for it.  
  
    Cracking a eye open he looks though the blur of tears and dim light of his arc greeting the grim looking god with a weak smile. "Hey, buddy."  
  
    "You are unwell. Do not move again." Loki’s tone is clipped short by a cough as the god turns away. The air in the hall is dusty and Tony has a feeling they're in a very small space. Panic rising up in him in an instant, making his stomach turn all over again, claustrophobia swallowing him whole at how cave-like this whole thing is.   
  
    "Do not move." Loki’s voice returns as well as a cool soft weight pressing to his chest, just by his reactor. Just over his heart.  
  
    "I think I'll stay." He groans. Swallowing a breath of the thick air and centering himself, concentrating on the hand against his chest and the green eyes looking down at him with what can’t be concern or respect. The earthquake. Not Afghanistan. Not that hell.   
  
    "Then you truly are a wise mortal."  
  
  
    Hours pass by and Tony's sure he's not supposed to fall asleep even as his eyes threaten to flutter closed, he's had a million people tell him that after he's blow stuff up. Stay awake. Help’s coming. But help's not coming this time, not for them. For him maybe, but to what end for the man sitting next to him. If the Avengers do come to his rescue and dig him out from under this personal hell Loki is going to get the shaft. Thrown in jail. A cell to wait for his brother in. A big fat thanks for saving Tony.   
  
    "Fuck," He groans reaching up slowly and rubbing his pounding temple. Green eyes turn down to him.  
  
    "You seem to have a fondness for that word."  
  
    "I just got thinking about... bad stuff." Slowly easing himself up to his elbows he's not shocked anymore, not threatened at all as gentle long fingers wrap around his arm and help him up further.   
  
    "How did I get out from the stairs?" His voice is trashed and his cough sends pain riding the express train down from his brain to his spine. The space they are in is only a few feet across, it looks like going up is no longer an option because most of the top floor looks to have meet the one they’re on now.  
  
    "I." That one word has Tony looking over, blinking slowly to clear his dust scratchy eyes, he wants to rub them but his hands are filthy. The arc's light is still strong, burning forever bright in his chest and offering the much needed light. Light that he can see just how fucked up the god looks.   
  
    "You dug me out?"   
  
    "It was not much to dig. The door was more trouble." He says lifting a limp hand to point to the door he'd shoved Loki through when the top floor fell. The long elegant fingers are cut and scratched from digging, Tony looking away from them with a heat to his cheeks.  
  
    "Yeah... I'm not good at this, but thanks."  
  
    The god merely sighs, maybe he's used to more glorious thanks as a prince or what ever, that's all Tony's got and that's all Tony can give. Glancing over to catch the frown but he sees only the top of messed black hair, Loki doubled over. It was not a sigh but a gasp.  
  
    "Let me see it." He demands, more swear words tingling on his tongue but he holds them back.  
  
    "It will pass." The words are breathed out in a hiss, a shudder wracking down the long thin spine. He’s suffering like a wounded animal in a trap, the god’s magnificent dignity the only thing keeping him moving.  
  
    "Fuck that, let me see." Tony all but growls, using his momentary anger at the stubborn god to push daft hands away from his side. Blood thick and hot is pouring again from the side. The bandage job he'd done is useless now but he's afraid to remove it, god only knows what's in the dust they're sitting in. Infection is spelled G.E.R.M.   
  
    "You are not well enough to aid yourself now." Loki says looking away as Tony lifts his eyes to him, his brows arching to his hairline.  
  
    "So what? I'm supposed to think only of myself now and let you sit here and bleed."  
  
    "It is an option. In war it would be a clear decision." Loki says, his wheezing breath barely carrying the words the short distance.  
  
    "This isn’t war." He says with a hard frown, between the buzz in his ears and the sick words coming from Loki's mouth Tony wants to throw up again. "This isn’t war and this isn't Asgard. We get out together. Alive."  
  
    Loki's spine goes painfully straight and his eyes flicker away into the darkness. He’s stepped on a nerve but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s not cold hearted. He’s an ass, but not a killer.   
  
    "Thank you." Loki breathes out, his voice whisper soft.   
  
    "Yeah. Just don’t tell anyone. We both have reputations to live up to." Tony grunts, shifting on his numb ass and leaning a little against the god at his side.  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    "No. Ma’am I just don’t understand what you’re trying to- no. ma’am-" Rogers doggedly tries to back away from the large woman coming at him, her hands waving in the air. The sight would almost be comical to Bruce if he didn’t understand just enough of the Spanish she was speaking.  
  
    "She says she can’t find her son." He cuts in, one hand against Rogers’s chest and the other held out, one finger up to stop the woman.   
  
    Questioning her as to where she last saw the child.   
  
    A building, nearly four blocks out of their path.   
  
    "Shit." He curses and the woman starts again, her pleading voice a backdrop to his oh-fuck-party. They’ve been at this for hours and are getting no closer to Tony. People keep coming to them, the Heroes to save the day and no one see's that one of their own is missing.  
  
    "Nat, get Fury on the line, tell his ass we need backup." Clint’s voice cuts over the den and even the Hispanic woman stops talking. The master assassin has a hard set to his face, frown carved from stone, deep eyes hidden behind sunglasses.  
  
    "He said he's not coming in, that this isn’t Shields place. They need to be on standby if Loki shows up."   
  
    "Did you happen to tell him I'm going to walk out of the team if he doesn’t bring in soldiers?" Clint’s voice is blade sharp. Bruce only able to guess at the emotions that cross Natasha’s face as she stares at the archer.   
  
    "No." She says her voice a hiss.  
  
    "Tell him."  
  
    "He’ll call your bluff."   
  
    "Then I'll walk away." Clint says stepping back on the rubble littered street. Nat looks as close to tears as Bruce has ever seen her, even when they we're all watching her go toe to toe with Loki on the hover carrier.   
  
    "Clint." She breathes out, her chest rising and falling as her emotional mask slips.  
  
    "No. You call him. You get help down here. What the fuck are we working for that we can’t even get help for innocent people?" He demands and Bruce flinches because it's true, the resources they’re burning through to help the people are coming from locals not the officials.   
  
    "I can’t."  
  
    "Make the fucking call!" He screams at her, the Spanish woman stepping back and away from the situation. Not having the understanding to see that the safety of her son and everyone else in LA right now rests on the hands of this conversation.  
  
    "He’s right." Rogers says, his voice coming from what seems like nowhere as he steps closer to them.  
  
    Natasha looks like she's been drawn and quartered for a moment, her mouth a thin pale frown. "All of you agree?" She asks, Bruce and Rogers nodding as Clint only stands as still as a pillar.   
  
    Turning on heel she walks a few feet away before touching the com at her ear. Putting the call through.  
  
  
O0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    The water bottle in the gods hand is new. He didn’t pull it out of thin air though, or fashion it from magic. The thing looked like it had survived the landing of Normandy.   
  
    It looks like gold to Tony's eyes.   
  
    "You’re kidding me."   
  
    "I do not." Loki's voice is low and velvet as he holds the bottle out, a hint of a smile ghosting on his pale face. "Just do not ask where it came from."  
  
    "Where’d it come from?" Tony asks, popping the cap and sniffing the water before bringing it to his dry lips. The effect is better than anything Tony's ever had in his life, wet and cool and instant. Drinking slowly because with the first swallow his stomach threatens to reject the idea.  
  
    "A vagrant of your land did not fair as well as we have."  
  
    "There’s a dead homeless man?" He asks, licking his lips damp and passing the bottle back to the god. Loki nods his head softly before taking a drink himself. He’s oddly proud that Loki did not kill the drifter. Maybe he’s just saving his killing rage for Tony.  
  
    "When?"  
  
    "You were under quite some time before waking."   
  
    "Oh." Tony breathes out, a little chilled by the idea that he could have slipped into a coma and died here. "So you stole water from a dead homeless man and waited till now to offer it?"  
  
    "You were throwing up earlier, I did not want the water wasted." Loki says, returning the cap to the bottle and sitting it between them before resting his head back against the wall. It would look relaxed if not for his black brows being drawn tight in pain. A nice little reminder that their clock is counting down in many ways.   
  
    "If you think you’re up to it, we should get moving again."   
  
    "Are you, Tony?" Loki questions, turning his head and looking to him. He was wrong to talk him into saying his name. It sounds wrong and right at the same time coming out of Loki's mouth, IronMan somehow made it seem less personal.   
  
    "I'm up. I'm alive. I've got this thing against spending hours in a room with a dead body anyways." He says, slowly rising to his feet. The world tilts but it's just his head, not another earthquake and he's shocked as shit when Loki offers his staff up to use as support.  
  
    "Not afraid of me breaking it?" He asks, offering down a hand to the god once he's situated on solid ground and pretty sure he’s not going to pass out.  
  
    "There is little to break, it is made of similar material as Mjolnir." Loki says as he stands with Tony’s’ aid, hunched around the wound in his side.  
  
    "Cool. I’d love to get it in a lab to poke and prod considering Thor never let me touch his hammer.”  
  
    "If we survive this, Tony, it will be yours to test for as long as you wish."   
  
    "You’re going to regret saying that." Tony grins as much as he can, looking to the god. Given the fact that a few hours ago they we’re bent on killing each other, it’s pretty awe inspiring for Loki to say that. He could be lying, but the green eyes are sincere and mirthful.   
  
    "I fear I already do, mortal." Loki says but there's a tone to his voice that's a barely surpassed chuckle, nearly giggle. Tony blames blood loss but what ever it is, the breathy sound is much nicer then murders.  
  
    "Oh. Look. Stairs."  
  
    "Joy."  
  
    "Odin smiles down onto us."  
  
    "Odin has pissed upon us. Your views of Asgard are warped by mythology." Tony doesn’t hide the sideways glace at Loki, the god is frowning and shit that is a bitter look. The smile and breathy laugh gone. Right. Adopted. Resentful. Oops.  
  
    "How’d you get out of there?" He asks as Loki busies himself trying the doorknob. The thin shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath.  
  
      
o0o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    Loki's sure he could say anything, the mortals never been to Asgard and lying has always been one of his finer abilities. He's also sure that they have no clue what his father’s punishment was for his crimes on both Midgard and Jotenheim. Thor still has not found a way to keep an open contact between the two worlds although every day his searches bring him closer.   
  
    "I fled Asgard; I did not feel my punishment from my father was fair for my crimes upon Midgard."  
  
    "And that other place." Tony points out, of course, when his brother had been with the Avengers, Thor would have told them at least some things. Letting bitterness leak into his voice as he explains his actions.  
  
    "I do not feel I was committing a crime then. I was merely ridding the realms of a never ending nightmare."  
  
    "That’s called genocide down here on Earth." Tony says his frown is broken by the fact he’s panting for breath as the walk the stairs but his eyes say all there is. Shame and disgust, failure. Loki doesn’t like that look there, he didn’t like it on Odin, he hated it on Thor, and he despises it on the mortal next to him as well.  
  
    "They are my people and as king of them in some regard now, I felt I could do as I wished."  
  
    "Was that another throne you just kind of woke up one day and decided you wanted to take over?"  
  
    Loki dares to frown back at Tony for that as fury takes control of his heart. "No, Mortal. That throne is mine by birth as Asgard is Thor’s."   
  
    "Oh. Shit. Adopted. How do I keep forgetting that?" Tony groans, rubbing his temples.   
  
    "I'd hardly consider stealing a child as adopting. Do not touch back there." He says, slapping Tony's wandering fingers from prodding the bloody back of his head.   
  
    "It hurts." The man grunts. Loki can only assume that is true. "So what was it? What was your punishment?"   
  
    Loki stops on a step taking in as deep a breath as he dares, the air in this building is stifling thick with dust and his memories only make it worse, the world closing in on him. His constant running and plotting has grown tiring to even him.  
  
    "Beheading."  
  
    He's sure that if he hadn't stopped that Tony would have fallen, his eyes wide for a moment before shaking his head. He looks like he's holding back all those midgardian words he's so very fond of.  
  
    "Surely you do not mean for me to believe you would have mourned my death." He says dully, leading them on once more.  
  
    "No... I... not before. I mean, Thor didn’t tell us a lot; he left out a bunch of shit actually. Down here, we have a court of law and they would have listened to your case and from what I've heard you could have easily pled temporary insanity. Life in prison at worse, maybe even got out in twenty, good behavior would maybe cut that in half."   
  
    Tony comes to a stop again, scrubbing a hand over his face and groaning like he's going to be ill.  
  
    "Your own fucking father."  
  
    "Adopted." Loki points out, taking Tony by the arm incase the man falls.  
  
    "I hated my dad, I think a large part of me still does, but he never wanted me dead."  
  
    Loki doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. Leading the mortal down the steps further still.   
  
    The silence is soothing to him almost as much as the talk. He’s not used to having someone by his side that can keep a conversation much more past 'food?' or 'fight!' The human gifts him with the power of gab unlike he's met the likes of. He’ll be emptier without it, if indeed they do survive this.   
  
    The mortal Tony is flagging, the blow to the head had been bad and Loki is unsure of what the lasting damage could be. It isn't as much the dazed look in once sharp eyes that concerns Loki as the small dribble of blood from the man’s ears. The treadles of chilly fear that wrap around him are wholly confusing and inconvenient. It’s not unlike the fear he'd had when his father had fallen. Unexplainable.  
  
    "Come, we must keep moving." He urges Tony along, keeping a weak hand on the man’s elbow as they stumble over rubble. His side is no longer a burning center of white hot agony but quite numb now. All the more concerning.

 


	5. 5

  
    Do not cry for hope that is lost, cry for the future no more.  
  
  
o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    Tony sways against his side before resting a shoulder to the wall of the stairway, the mortals breath coming out in short panicked pants that are not a sure sign of health.   
  
    "Here." Loki offers the last of the water with a mask of indifference, Tony taking it from his hand with a weighty sigh as they survey their hell.  
  
    The floor they had landed on, stairs ending nicely into a door was supposed to have been their hope, their freedom just one more floor down. Not a ruble covered grave.   
  
    "We... we'll have to crawl." The man next to him says, bringing the bottle to his lips as he examines the pile of bricks and wood raised nearly to the roof of the space. "We... I... fuck. That’s going to be dark." Tony groans sinking to his knees now, his head bowed down to the dirt littered floor as his breath comes out in panicked gasps.  
  
    Loki is by his side in a moment. Long legs folded so his knees are up to his chest to hide the way his body has taken up shaking.   
  
    "We can do this." Tony’s voice sounds weak and lacks any kind of conviction.  
  
    "Yes. It should be passable. If the course is clear to the other stairs."  Loki agrees.   
  
    Tony hangs his head and rubs his hands over his face his hands stop as the tips of his dirty fingers brush over the thin line of blood working its way from ears to jaw. Tired brown eyes close and for a moment despair flitters across the IronMan’s strong face before the man slams down a mask of resolve and nods his head slowly.  
  
    "Come on. No better time than the now."   
  
    "I do hope you know what you’re doing." Loki sighs wearily.  
  
    "Not a clue, come on." Tony says, holding a hand down, the tired smile on his face is fake but the steel determination is back in his eyes and it's enough strength for Loki to hold onto. Leaning heavily on his scepter and lightly taking the mortals hand Loki raises back to his feet. His head swims with the shift and his vision threatens with an unnatural darkness around the edges but his side remains numb; the uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips not unlike the feel of magic gathering there but there's nothing at his call. In the quiet darkness of their tomb Loki is a logical enough person to know he’s dying.  
  
    "You should lead the way, the light."   
  
    Dusty brown hair twitches as Tony shakes his head a little "The lights going to be useless in here. I'm going to be down on my chest."  
  
    "I had wondered, is it not removable?" Loki asks, grateful for the distraction as he reaches out to touch the odd thing just below the shirts flimsy covering. The mortal doesn’t even flinch away at the feather soft contact.  
  
    Tony chuckles darkly at the simple question and shakes his head. "It can come out, but then I'd be dead."   
  
    He’s disappointed by the numb feel of his fingers touching the ring. He wonders what it really feels like. Is it hot like the Tesseract or cold like the Casket? Pulling his hand back and lifting his eyes to Tony's as his words sink in slower than they should. "Dead?"   
  
    "It’s a long story." Tony grunts looking to the rubble like he's trying to best decide on a plan of attack, it’s a nice ruse to hide the pain in his eyes.  
  
    "Later then." Loki admits, acknowledging that some stories should not be told so close to their death beds. Tipping his head and watching the smaller man stumble and grunt as he gets up into the space with an odd grace to him. Waiting till the space is empty once more before reaching up to follow.  
  
    Loki's heart is a calm beat in his chest as he climbs up the bricks and rubble; the space is tight and for the first time in what feels like hours his side reawakens in pain. Closing his eyes against the darkness and pain as he pants, his own breaths mixing with Tony's in the dark tight space.   
  
  
o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    They are in a tomb. This is the icing on their oh-god-fuck-mess cake.   
  
    Loki's breaths are a panicked pant behind him and his own are coming out rough because shit this is above his head but sitting in that stairwell for the rest of his very short little life was out of the question. They’re going to die in here though, Loki’s wheezed pants are coming out cut short and there’s the thick stench of blood in the air once more.  
  
    Tony tries to turn around but the pathway in front of him is too damn narrow, closing his eyes tight to block out memories and dust he stretches back with his hand, scratching his cheek on the rubble. "Give me your fucking hand.”  
  
    "We are... we are to die and you wish to hold my hand?" Loki is past panic and into hysteria, the once composed velvet voice wrecked by what can be chocked back sobs or laughter or both. Im-fucking-possible.   
  
    "Give me your god damn hand." Tony barks using his voice like a hard slap to calm the panicked god because sure as shit he's going to have a heart attack himself. His pounding heart hammering so hard the blood rushing in his ears and the punctuated sounds of their breathing is all he can hear. Maybe that’s all there is to hear. Screwing his eyes closed tighter he tries to keep the leaky lid on his on panic down tight.   
  
    In the constrictive darkness it seems to take forever before cold thin fingers slip into his hand. Tony latches onto that, feeling the shaking and the anguish through the simple small touch and in that moment needing more. Rubble scraping against his knees and belly as he struggles to reposition.   
  
    "Stop. Moving." Loki's pain filled breath gasps though the air and Tony stills only because he's been requested too. As much as he wants to get the hell out of this space, he can’t handle the soft begging fear in that voice.  
  
    Tony breaths heavily and feels out with his free hand around him further, scooting a bit till his back is against the wall and there's the slimiest pocket of light when he shifts to his side. Wonderful beautiful light that chases away the shadows for a few inches and offers them their own private heaven. There's something digging into his shoulder it's really fucking uncomfortable but he can just make out Loki's thin hand holding onto his.  
  
    "Come on. Just a little bit more. Come up here next to me." There's a low beg to his voice now and he doesn’t give a fuck. He gives Loki’s hand a limp tug but there's no response. Not even a twitch of fingers. Tony's heart jumping into his throat as he tugs the god’s hand again. Swallowing and holding his breath as he strains his ears to listen. The silence consumes him up and his lid comes undone when the cold realization that he’s the only one breathing hits him.  
  
    "Oh, no. no you don’t. Not in here. Come on. Come on, you fucker. You stupid stubborn bastard. Where is your fight!?" Tony growls, pulling on the hand with all the strength left in his body.   
  
    There's so much wrong with the situation that if Tony listed it all he'd be well into a book the size of a dictionary as he wraps his arms around Loki's shoulders and pulls. The adrenalin fueling his body and bringing them chest to chest in the tight space. Black hair blends with shadow making Loki look even more ghost pale. He’s breathing though, nothing but shallow draws, his heart is a humming bird fluttering wings against the iron bars of the god’s ribs.   
  
    "Fuck. I think I hate you." Tony groans clenching the unmoving body close till Loki’s breath is tickling across his dirty throat, a frail reminder of life. He hates to admit he's craving this right now, the closeness. Needing to prove the body in his arms is alive.   
  
    The shaking god in his arms is dying though, he's sure about it. With all his smarts and all of the god’s powers, Tony is sure Loki is dying, maybe they both are.   
  
    Scratch the maybe.   
  
    "Fuck..." He breathes out a shaky breath, tucking his chin down so his nose is buried in the other man’s hair. Holding tighter still.  
  
    After all his work and struggles he's still going to die in a cave. Its man made this time but still no better than Afghanistan and how jacked up is that. Life’s just laughing it up for the irony of the moment.   
  
    He's going to die in another cave.   
  
    Just like Afghanistan, and Loki is going to die just like Yinsen.  
  
    "Come on, buddy. I need you to wake up again." He groans against the hair as the rubble over them shifts a little, the building moaning in its final death throws. Loki's breath against his neck is whisper soft now and Tony bites back the urge to scream, his fingers clenching in the thin material of Loki's tunic.  
  
    "Don’t you do this. I said I'd get you out of here alive. Don’t make a liar of me. Don’t make me bury you too." He does scream now, gripping the thin shoulders tight and shaking him. Feeding all his anger and panic and gut wrenching terror into the scream till his throat is raw and there’s blood in the back of his mouth and he’s sure he’ll be horse for days.  
  
    Green eyes flutter open with a startled gasp of air, their breaths mixing in the tiny space between them before slowly they fluttering closed again, never once focusing on Tony. Just like a candle flickering on the last ashes of its life providing wood.  
  
    "Tell me you’re alive, you little shit."  
  
    "Loki, please... Tony, if you insist on first names. Use mine." The words are whisper thin against Tony's neck but in the cramped space it's all that's needed. Clasping the god tight to his chest once more, relieved at the feel of long cold fingers weakly grabbing onto his shirt in return.  
  
    "Loki, I thought you had died." He admits, breathing out a choked laugh, not letting up on the tight hold. "I don’t even know if you can die."  
  
    "I... believe... I may have." Loki drags in a wheezing breath but otherwise makes no further move to get away from Tony. "That... was not desirable."   
  
    "I think some people wouldn’t mind." He admits with a sigh closing his eyes, here in the dark it's pointless to keep them open anyways. Burrowing his nose into the god’s silky, dirty hair with a mirthless smile. "I can name a few... thousand."  
  
    "With the spell... incomplete... it would matter... little..." A shiver runs down the long spine as the voice drifts off, the body in his arms threatening to go lax once more. Teetering on the edge of death.  
  
    "No. Stay with me here. What about the spell? What were you doing?" Tony had wondered for some time now but the god had not given him an opportunity to question that aspect. He’d assumed that it was something malevolent but then again Loki had planted the seed of doubt in his mind hours ago.  
  
    Letting his hand drift down and back up that lean spine without meaning to Tony waits for something, anything. Just not death.  
  
    "I was fixing... what I broke."   
  
    "What did you break? That bridge? The Rosen Bridge that is used to travel?"  
  
    "No..." Loki groans against him, like he's trying to wake up from a long deep sleep that stubbornly tries to pull him under again. "When I fell... I broke the... you wouldn’t understand."  
  
    Ah. Yes. That is the voice of the god he knows. It’s like a breath of fresh clean air to Tony; no one can be that cynical and dying.  
  
    "Try me; I'm known to be a little smart."   
  
    There's an indifferent moment as Loki clears his throat, breath tickling against Tony's throat with the move. "When I fell from Asgard I tore through something. The hole is still there. There is a great evil... he was on the other side of the nothingness between the worlds. This... shell that now has a crack in it had been keeping him from entering the realms."  
  
    "Give me an idea of your definition of evil." Tony asks, not liking the sound of this. Some intergalactic protective embryonic membrane had been disturbed by Loki's fall, maybe by the collapse of the Rosen Bridge, he'd have to take a crack at the numbers but he can see how it may be possible if he could only figure out how to equate in magic and shit he's never messed with before.  
  
    "It craves death, it courts it with a love that is not natural and its sights have been set onto the nine realms. An untouched feast waiting for him."  
  
    Death. The destruction of everything. All caused by one little god falling from grace.  
  
    "You can fix it?" He asks softly, slowly shifting so Loki is away from his chest, the dim light between them. Green tired eyes fix onto his arc and Tony can feel the soft trace of fingers over his shirt.  
  
    "I can. With time and power."  
  
    "Life on the run a little hard?"  
  
    "I would have been successful if not for an obnoxious mortal." Tony has to choke down a chuckle at that.  
  
    "Why didn’t you come to us the first time? Why did you wage war?"   
  
    "Because I had to. To leave his hold I had to vow to bring the Tesseract back to him."  
  
    "It makes a bigger hole than the one you did." Tony grumbles, things clicking into place. It’s all fucked up but it makes sense. More than the 'kneel' ever did.   
  
    Coulson was right, damn it. Loki lacked conviction.   
  
    "I'll get us out of here... and you can close your hole." Because he's not thinking past that. The idea of the world being served onto a platter for an evil hungry something makes his skin crawl.  
  
    "I believe that time has come to past." The low voice is breathed against his skin as Loki settles back against his chest with a tired sound. Like a cat crawling off to die, he’s accepted his death.   
  
    Tony frowns and grabs onto the thin shoulders again, deciding against shaking the god but pushing him far enough away that Loki’s washed out green eyes have to look up to him again. "No. you don’t give up now. That’s bullshit. I will get you out of here and you will heal and work your magic."   
  
    "Tony."  
  
    "Bullshit. Shut your mouth. I'm getting you out. You can bleed on my sofa till your ready to work your magic."  
  
    "Your commanding officers-"  
  
    "Will never know."  
  
    "The other avenging humans-"  
  
    "Will. Never. Know."  
  
    "Odin.... Thor..."  
  
    That gave Tony a pause but he shrugs his shoulders the best he can in the cramped space. "Fuck them."   
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0  
  
  
    The solders had arrived only an hour after Natasha had made the call although she now refused to speak to Clint. The odd love spat was a wedge the team didn’t need but the archer had done the right thing.  
  
    Rogers didn’t want to think that it had almost taken them all walking away for backup to arrive. It’s hard enough to see it happen.   
  
    "Come on. We’re going straight to Tony's last coordinates now." Banner says as he comes jogging over, having passed over the last of his instructions to an acting EMT.   
  
    Clapping his dusty hands together with hope in his brown eyes, Steve prays that hope isn’t misplaced. Tony's been missing for hours now, the sun starting its long trek into the ocean and already the mountains to the east are looking deeper in color. They've only an hour or so of light left for the day. Tony should have checked in by now.   
  
    "Don’t." Banner says, getting into Steve’s face with a frown. "Remember. Hope is our most valuable weapon in a time like this."  
  
    "Come on girls, no more chatty time." Clint says as he passes by them, the toxic air of anger still pouring off of him in waves as he pushes through the group and out into the street. Boots crunching over ruined asphalt and glass. He looks over his shoulder at them, a glance really, without breaking stride.   
  
    Rogers doesn’t have enough personal knowledge of Clint to say why, but the archer is clearly unsettled, has been since Loki's first attack. Although he vowed that the Tesseract had no lasting impact on him, Rogers can’t help feel that the master assassin is hiding something.   
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    The air smells of desolation and death in the darkness Tony has decided. The sharp metallic tang of blood mixed with sweat and fear. It smells like Afghanistan and that damn cave.   
  
    "We’ve got to get moving again. We’re so close I can taste it."  
  
    "I'm glad one of us can. I fear all I taste is bl-"  
  
    "Don’t say that." Tony grunts removing his hand from the god’s soft lips were he'd silenced him.  
  
    They had covered a little ground through the dark passage but needed to rest before long. Loki's consciousness balanced on a razor edge between life and death, his eyes long having lost the green glow to them. Even in the cramped heat of their personal hell his body is colder against Tony's. Cold as a dead body.  
  
    Tony's not lying though, he swears a moment ago a breath of fresh air had ghosted over them like the building itself was breathing. They had to be near the door. And on the other side of it was stairs to freedom. He refused to let himself think that the warehouse might have already collapsed. It just wasn’t a possibility.  
  
    "I grow tired mortal." Loki's breath ghosts against his shoulder, Tony having forced the god to stay with him. By his side, no more dying. It was an unspoken rule and one Tony refused to let the god break.   
  
    "Tony." He reminds.  
  
    "I grow tired, Tony."   
  
    Only a dying god can say his name and it still sound like he's saying worm. They had been resting though, and Tony was sure that if he let Loki sit unmoving too long, he'd never get him moving again. Rubbing his arm over Loki’s shoulder he shrugs limply in the crammed space.  
  
    "Cry me a river. Come on." He says, nudging his elbow to Loki's chest, waiting for the sound of scraping rubble before edging foreword himself. Keeping them moving in the same general directing the whole time, it was easier when he could keep a wall to his side but after some time that grew impossible due to rubble. Sweeping a hand out in front of him as he blindly searches for the door.   
  
    Lifting his head and squinting his eyes in the darkness as they hit a smooth wall. "Well what do we have here?" He can’t help but grin, feeling along the smooth surface for molding. Please be door. Please be- "YES!" He shouts, startling the god at his side.  
  
    "Door?" Loki asks on an exhale.  
  
    "Move over." Tony says, shifting around so that he's backwards, kicking his feet against the door and grunting in pain as the thing doesn’t budge. The rubble above them groaning threateningly through dust drifting down.  
  
    "I would advise not doing that again." Loki warns but Tony doesn’t care, he's tired of dying and death and this fucking hole.   
  
    Bringing his knees up to his chest he kicks out again.   
  
    This kick lands solid, the door giving under the blunt force and light fills the dark space, chasing away the shadows as fresh air flows in.   
  
    Closing his eyes and breathing in the clear fresh air for a moment Tony blinks back the threat of wetness to his scratchy eyes. Freedom. They’re really not going to die here. They’ve actually made it.   
  
    "Oh thank you god." He groans as he scrubs his hands over his face before shifting about in the rubble. Coming around to Loki's side, the god is quiet again. Washed out eyes looking just as wet as he looks out into the warehouse.   
  
    "We did it." Tony proclaims, digging his fingers into all that inky hair and bringing the dirty forehead to his mouth before he can stop himself. Loki breathing a sigh against his neck, a few quiet words leaving his mouth in a language Tony doesn’t even pretend to understand but the way they’re said Tony’s pretty sure their god speak of ‘thank you god’. Or thank you whatever gods thank.  
  
    "That... appears easy compared to what we've been through." Loki sighs as Tony lets go of him. Shifting to look down at the rubble a story below their feet. There’s a rough steel staircase that seems to have survived the earthquake intact below them leading down into a pool of carnage. The brick building still standing in a wide open space but whatever machinery had once stood is now a ruin of sharp metal. Even from here he can see the door way though.   
  
    "No shit." Tony chuckles, his head protesting and coughing up a dusty breath before attempting to climb down.   
  
  
o0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    Loki watches as the mortal has to shift around and approach the exit backwards, dropping down the few feet, disappearing from his view for a moment before Tony’s sneakers land in a crash against the metal grating of the stairs. There's a silent heartbeat before Tony stands back up straight, one hand to his head.  
  
    In the blaring light of day he can see every cut and scratch on the human's skin. Those brown eyes are brighter now though, hope of survival so close fuelling the fire that burns in the man. Frumpy dust covered brown hair is sticking up in spikes from blood and sweat. His shirt and slacks are stained with blood and Loki is sure most of that is his.  
  
    "Come on down princess, I'll catch you." He quips, that smile between his beard makes him look roguish. Surrounded by destruction the human is oddly in his element here just as much as he was in his lavish home with drinks in hand.  
  
    Shoving his scepter down to Tony the man catches it then offers up a hand. "Come on, we do this slowly, you don’t bleed out." He makes a little shrugging motion. "More than you already have."   
  
    Sucking in a hissed breath as he reaches for the hand, his vision swimming sickly and he's not sure now if he's going to throw up as his side stretches. Clasping tight to the hand and giving a shove against the rubble under him. Gravel biting into his palm as he shoves off the small cliff edge. Trying to keep his balance with his legs and help the human who's trying to grab his shoulders. Tony’s fingers slipping and loosing their purchase in weakness, sunlight and fresh air can only do so much to replace the damage done to the mortal’s head.  
  
    And like that he’s falling. Only this one is dramatically shorter than his first fall from favor, the ending impact is almost worst.  
  
    Gritting his teeth hard and sucking back a scream as he lands none too easily onto the grating next to Tony's feet.  
  
    "Ah, fuck!" Tony swears but Loki just can’t will his eyes to stay open any more. Feeling the man’s hands on him, but things are numb and far away like his body is in a tunnel, separate from his mind.   
  
    Tony's screaming something, something fast and panicked but he can’t   
seem to care, his mind to far from his body now and here there's no pain. Nothing but a safe place to sleep and even gods need safe places to sleep.   
  
  
O0o0o00o0o0o  
  
  
  
    Fury wasn't what Clint wanted to see when they came around the turn to the half collapsed building that Tony had last been in. If Tony was still in there, it was going to take them all night digging to find the body.   
  
    "What the fuck are you doing here?" Whipping off his sunglasses his stares eye for eye at the commanding officer that at one time he had at least a little respect for.   
  
    "I don’t have time for you right now. Where the hell is Stark?"  
  
    "I'm right here, miss me?" Clint turns to the side of the brick rubble where a door is open as Bruce and Rogers go running to the man who looks a moment past collapsing. Stark pushes the helping hands away though, shifting to a wider stance so he doesn’t fall. "No. Get your hands off me right now. I'm fine."   
  
    "Where is Loki? We need to start searching the city for him now."   
  
    "You don’t need to look." Tony says, pulling strips of what was probably once green fabric from his pants pockets, the blood stains leaving the emerald the color of oxidizing copper. Something caught between red and green. "He’s dead."   
  
    There's something akin to true pain in the geniuses eyes as he throws the fabric in to Fury’s chest before pushing past the little group, wiping his hands on his pants before rubbing his bare chest over his heart like its hurt too. An invisible wound that is far worse than the scratches and bruises that litter his body.   
  
    Clint isn't sure what happened in that building but Stark is walking the limp of a battle lost soldier. Their little team of heroes is as scattered as the winds blowing the dust.   
  
    Natasha refuses to look at him as Bruce and Rogers look on with an equal mix of hurt and confusion.   
  
    Sharing a glance at Fury before they walk off after Stark. Fury stands strong, too dense or stubborn to see that somehow they'd lost this battle. There is no high fives and beer after; only going home to lick their wounds in silence.   
  
  
O0o0o0o0o0o  
  
  
    If anyone saw IronMan fly into the ruined city of LA that night, no one said a word.   
  
    No one made a fuss about him entering the falling building that only a few hours before he'd came out of looking like death.   
  
    Not a soul mentioned him removing a broken body with gentle hands, holding his unmoving package close like it's precious to him before rocketing off into the night’s sky.


End file.
